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okimargarvez · 4 years

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SOMEONE TO PUSH ME

Original title: Someone to push me.

Prompt: Luke wants to make his best friend happy again.

Warning: post 13x7.

Genre: funny, friendly, family, romantic, a bit sad.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Phil Brooks, Matt Simmons, Penelope Garcia, Roxy, Lou, BAU team.

Pairing: Garvez; PhilxPenelope.

Note: oneshot 57 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💏😘🔦🐶🎵.

Song mentioned: L’alfabeto degli amanti, Michele Zarillo feat Tiziano Ferro.

GARVEZ STORIES

SOMEONE TO PUSH ME

* The greatest mistake that man can ever do, is to look far for the things he has inside him

Since Morgan is no longer part of the team, it rarely happens that once the unknown subject is taken, my phone rings again. Even for this reason I don't answer immediately, but I let the sound fill the room while I look without words at the name on the display. Alvez. What will he want from me? I force myself to pick up his call.

-…hello?- but I can't and maybe I don't even want to completely hide my amazement. On the other side of the line follows a brief silence.

-What, no one of your twisty jokes for me?- I hear him ask, as a spiritual protest. Even if I don't want to, he get a grimace out for me, that fortunately he can't see.

-Uh...- I sigh. -I...- I cut off a possible explanation that he is not required to know. -What do you need?- then suddenly the most catastrophic images passing in front of my myopic eyes. -Why did you call?- I ask with my heart in my throat, remembering the anguish of a few months ago, when I heard the crash of their SUVs in direct connection, without being able to do anything. -Something happened to...- he must have guessed it, because he says the right thing or at least one of the best.

-Breathe, Garcia, breathe.- he says in a quiet tone of voice that has the power to calm me instantly. -Nothing happened. Not yet.- he adds, however, after a pause, raising my doubts and confusing me even more. I can't focus on work, so I take my fingers off the keyboard and concentrate only on our conversation.

-What... could you be a little less mysterious?- I ask and while I'm waiting for him to answer, I imagine what he's wearing now, almost certainly something dark, because almost all his wardrobe is made up of black dresses, gray garments, as well as shades of red (dark), blue (dark) and a few exceptions. It shouldn't matter to me, but by now I've realized that denying it is useless. I decided to be sincere, at least to myself.

-Sorry.- he finally says after what seems to me a century, certainly only a few seconds. -It's just, I was wondering...- he sounds uncertain, insecure. -Are you free tonight?- then he shots all of a sudden and it seems so much an appointment request, but I know it's not, it can't be. So, I answer with a joke, as he asked me earlier.

-...wait for that the landing of the jet could be considered as a appointment?- I hear him laughing heartily. Everyone laughs at my wacky sentences, but no one has ever shown himself as genuinely amused as Luke. I can see his mouth open in his unique way. Better to focus on something else, before saying some worse bullshit.

-Do you remember my partner, Phil?- sure, his best friend. He talked about it one day with Matt, at O'Keefe, and I was sitting next to the former IRT agent. -That...- he begins to explain, but I know that he has not yet overcome the trauma of Cullen's case, even if the latter is still detained for his previous crimes, no longer in a maximum-security prison, but in a psychiatric one. Because he never recovered his memory. I'm not a profiler, like them, but I know how to connect the dots, and even if at the time I was even more cold with him than today, I guessed enough.

-Yes, I understand.- I say then to avoid him to feel again that pain. I know from personal experience that it doesn't matter how much time has passed. You can never overcome some things.

-Here.- he says, and I interpret it as a thank you. -I...- he still hesitates, probably assuming that my answer will be negative -...I would like to surprise him, he... needs a push, a reason that motivates him to keep trying.- he finally spits out, along with a big sigh. I just can't stop myself.

-Oh, Luke, what a sweet thing!- I exclaim, in an exaggeratedly honeyed tone. The time that elapses before he replies something makes me guess that he is rather surprised and upset.

-Yes.- he says, chuckling, while I reflect that this is our first private phone call that doesn't involve a case or a job. I also understand that he needs a little push.

-What can I do for you?- I ask, initially in an indifferent tone. -Do you want to introduce me? Is he cute?- I get straight to the point, though I don't think at all that the reason he called me while they are still flying is to get me to meet Phil. Maybe I make him mainly to arouse a bit of jealousy, and in fact, in his laugh there is some different nuance that I don't recognize.

-No, I didn't mean this.- he replies, when he stops laughing. -I know you... you love all the animals, right?- I don't think I need to answer, so I remain silent. -And therefore, uh, would you like to accompany me to choose a dog for my friend?- I can't talk. My mind, diabolically, transports me back more than a year, to the day I met Roxy. At that moment, when he had spoken the word dog, my brain had done as now: it had stalled, repeating that word endlessly. Dog. Because, with a dog by his side, Agent Alvez, Luke, was definitely more interesting... and less annoying. -Penelope, are you there?- his voice comes far, but he still has the power to bring me back to the real world.

-Uh? Yes, sorry, but when I hear the word dog...- I stumble, trying to explain, but then I understand that I could only make things worse. I blush (once again blessing the fact that we are not in a video call) and try to be professional or normal. -I’m. I'm here.- sigh. Silence, still silence. This is not what happens when we are facing each other, although he is notoriously taciturn, certainly not a talker... he is always different with me. But it is only because he must necessarily play the game.

Just when I'm about to ask him if he's still there, he revives. -So, are you in?- he asks. I hear a noise that could be interpreted with Luke scratching his head. But it could also be just a few sounds in the background. He's on a jet, after all.

-Sure!- I answer, this time without taking time or adding unnecessary details. However, good intentions are destined to have a short life. -But please, tell me you will get the dog from a shelter, among those unjustly abandoned.- I bite my tongue, but it's too late. Not that I'm ashamed of it, but I could have waited and suggested it to him personally.

But Luke rewards me with another crystalline laugh. -Something tells me that you know this world better than me.- he also winks, or at least that is what his tone suggests. It even seems to me that there is some mischievous nuance, but it will be my mind that makes me believe what I would like.

In any case, I reply in the same way. -Oh, Alvez, you will also be the owner of a splendid canine specimen, but the lady here is an active and voluntary member of all the shelters for abandoned animals of the state of Virginia.- here, I had not really intention to give him all this information or to seem vain. I don't like it, usually I never talk about this kind of stuff... in fact nobody on the team knows it. No one besides Luke, now.

-I never doubted that.- he chuckles again. -So...- he tries to say but my voice overlaps his.

-What time will you arrive here?- I ask, putting my hand over my mouth. Always too late, Garcia. It is useless for you to cry over spilled milk. And to talk to yourself, even if only in your mind.

-The landing is scheduled in about an hour.- he promptly replies.

-Perfect.- I let run my tongue over my lips and realize that they are dry. The hands, on the other hand, are sweaty. Damn, I can't let him see me like this. -I have plenty of time to consult with my animalist friends to find out who could be the lucky one.- I explain. Still too many details. Do I really think he might be interested?

-Great.- a break, that noise again. -I’ll se you later, Garcia.- he doesn’t give me time to replay, he hangs up before I can open my mouth. Maybe he accidentally crushed the shutdown button, or they are in a place where even the FBI's super-sophisticated technology can serve.

-See you later.- I answer to the nothing.

It is certainly not the first time that I wait for the team with this fibrillation and agitation, but in the last half hour I have practically never been able to take my eyes off the clock display. Do my job, no way. Useless was the attempt of the rational part of me, which tried to convince the dreamer one that this was not a date, but only a favor done to a friend, to exaggerate. He has said it: I am a person who loves animals. That's why he chose me instead of Matt, Spencer or JJ, or Tara, or Emily or Rossi or... I can't take it anymore. I turn off the system, throw things in my purse in a disorderly fashion and type in the code (risking making a mistake). I walk nervously in front of the elevators, deceiving myself that they are about to appear, every time the doors open and are just any agents. Then, I feel like a tingling and I know it's them.

He is the last to go down. I greet others in a hurried way, a little too much, by my standards and certainly suspicious, especially judging by the way JJ looks at me. I'd like to be able to talk to her about this problem, but it would make it too real.

I head to Luke. -Finally, here you are.- without realizing it, I grab him by the arm and drag him towards his desk (in a glimmer of lucidity I must have thought he could have to take and leave something). He doesn't even try to protest or slip from my grip.

-Sorry, there was a little turbulence.- he only says and, again, I feel those strange nuances, while his lips bend into a crooked smile. That smile that can knock me out, if I let it do.

I keep yanking him, until I reach the goal, regardless of the others. -Hurry up, you have to see something.- he puts some papers down and sets them up in the drawer, so he nods that we can go. We walk side by side, closest (not as much as I would like) again in the direction of the elevators. More steps behind us.

-Hey, good night, Luke!- Matt voluntarily talks only to Luke, and it makes me laugh that they might think there's something more behind. A laugh not without a sad aftertaste. I wish it was like that.

Even Rossi gets to give him help. -Behave, you two, that tomorrow is a school day.- he warns both, going up next to Simmons on the second lift, leaving the other only for us. He joins me, shaking his head.

-But did you hear them?- he asks. But I am completely focused on not thinking about how close I am to him, his shoulder brushes mine and this every time we end up taking the elevator alone, while it hardly happens with the rest of the team, even with the girls. It is as if our bodies want, they must to be attacked. No, wait, Garcia: maybe your body has that desire, his's just an innocent victim.

-Yes, yes, it's not important.- I take out my cell phone and show him the screen. -Look. Look at this post.- there is a picture of a puppy of a Belgian shepherd breed, like Roxy, so small that he hasn't even opened his eyes. -Two months ago they found a pregnant dog, and...- I begin to explain, but I must have underestimated the thing or deluded myself that I was stronger -…and...- I stumble, while my eyes filling with tears.

I see wrinkles of worry appearing on his forehead. He has already seen me cry, but I don’t want to show him again this spectacle. It's too intimate, too personal... to share it with someone who, despite his words, will never cover that role. -Garcia, you feel good?- I nod, but my eyes are clouded.

I feel the phone is falling out. -Yes, yes, it's just...- he gently pulls it out from my fingers. I almost jump when his skin touches mine. I'm so ridiculous! -It's just...- I blink, freeing myself from the tears. It isn't a real crisis; I'm able to manage it. I congratulate myself.

-Is she dead?- he whispers sorrowfully, looking into my eyes.

I nod. I have to swallow twice. -She and two of the four puppies...- I spoke too soon. A sort of hiccup comes out that in reality is a sob, the signal that the storm is about to arrive. I feel my lips begin to tremble and I curse myself. But Luke doesn't seem to think so the same way.

-Oh, come on, come here.- he gently pushes me against his chest and hugs me. I rest my forehead on his shoulder, trying to wet him as little as possible. We both ignore the diiing of the bell that tells us that we have reached the last floor. His right-hand caresses my back softly and I could remain eternally in this instant.

We have already embraced each other, when Emily became head of the unit, but that was not a real hug. It was a quick and embarrassing squeeze. -Sorry, I...- I mumble, but I don't try to break away.

-There is no reason to apologize.- he replies in a calm and low tone, deep, like... like when he knows I'm in trouble. Even though he's the one who knew me less, he always knew how to understand when I felt bad. Making it all that much more difficult. - Do you think you can finish the story?- he asks, parting but pushing me towards the exit with a hand on my back, right where the scapula is.

-Yes.- I nod, take out a handkerchief and recompose myself. -Because of malnutrition only two little dogs have managed to overcome the critical phase.- I explain, again, trying to talk without hearing what I say, like when we have a really too macabo or splatter case for my taste. -One was adopted just yesterday, but this...- I point to the photo in the phone, which in the meantime has returned to me. -He is recovering, he has recently recovered the full motor capacity of his hind legs.- I smile, stopping in front of his car. -And then I thought that, since your friend is in a wheelchair...- I can't hold his gaze. -Maybe it was a bad idea.- I pull back.

But Luke shakes his head. -No, no, you're right, it's perfect.- he gives me a strong smile. -And he has a really sweet look.- he adds, looking at me, however, intensely, as if to suggest that it is my gaze, the sweet one. But again, it's just a figment of my imagination. Even if I think so, about his smile.

-Yes, I think the same.- I open the door and I get on board with difficulty, even though I always (always seems an extremely long and disproportionate time, it is less than two years, after all) dreamed that he did it, but in any case, I don't give him the time, to avoid recreating that embarrassment of that time that he had helped me get off the Bradenton sidewalk.

-So?- he asks, after a while we are on the road.

I turn to him and look at him as he drives. I look at the way he grips the steering wheel with one hand while tapping it with the other. I observe his concentration which I find, needless to say, extremely sexy. -So what?- I almost echo him.

Here comes that mischievous smile. -How did you call him?- I open my mouth to answer him in the same tone or pretend that I don't understand who we're talking about. Then I change my mind.

-What makes you think I already gave him a name?- he gives me a quick look, fast but sufficiently loaded with things. Things I'm afraid to analyze.

-Because I know you, now.- he answers and I don't deny. -I profiled you, did you forget it?- I imitate an ironic laugh.

Then Luke glances at me again and I give up. -I thought... Lou.- I'm tense more than when I was at school waiting to see the result of an exam or question on the board.

-I like it.- he says and I start breathing again. I seemed to notice something even now, but... enough, I have to concentrate on our mission. -Is it in my honor?- he has the courage to ask me. I roll my eyes, pretending to be annoyed.

-Oh, don't flatter yourself, Alvez.- here, the surname is the best thing, but he doesn't seem disappointed. In fact, even if it could be the diminutive of Louis, I could have chosen the name of the little dog based on an assonance...

Fortunately, about ten minutes later we arrive.

-Here we are, it's here.- I clap, excited, he chuckles as he turns. We go in, but I stop in front of any cage, unable to detach myself from all those sad little eyes that tonight will probably present me with the bill again.

A big hand lands on my shoulder. -Garcia, you can't look in this way at every animal that is here.- he makes rationally to note, but his hot breath hits some uncovered areas of my skin.

-I know.- I whine. -But how can you do it, how can you leave them here?- he makes me turn to him and nods.

-Better here than on the road.- he comments, pushing me forward.

-You are right.- I sigh, then I see a short woman, skinny and with short and dark hair. -Oh, here's my friend Victoria.- I hurry up and he walks next to me.

-Penelope!- she exclaims, quickly embracing me. -Is this the lucky future owner?- I see her green eyes flicker on Luke and something stings my stomach. I think they call it jealousy. She finds him attractive, who in their right mind would not think so? I also look towards the man, who smiles in a friendly way, but nothing more. Sigh of relief.

-No, it's his best friend. He's in a veteran's clinic, and... he has a similar story to Lou's.- Victoria opens her eyes wide when she hears me say the name, but she should have expected it.

-Lou? Well, it sounds good.- and so it is decided. -Are you sure it won't be a problem for the clinic?- she gives Luke a stern look. How many times have we cried together the death of a deceived animal of having finally found his family and "returned" to the kennel? It would be good if we understood once and for all that animals are living beings, sentient, not objects, plush. This is why Victoria asked this question with such seriousness.

-Yes, I've already talked to the director.- Luke replies though, and we both believe him.

Victoria nods. -Perfect, then, follow me.-

Once in the car again, with the puppy in my arms, I give the best of myself. -Oh my God, oh my God, but how cute he is!- I chirp with a certainly ridiculous tone. -Have you seen how cute he is?- I ask him a hundred times, even though he has already answered yes and cannot turn around to look at me well. -He's the sweetest creature in the universe.- Lou seems to like the compliment and licks my face, until he utters a shriek of pleasure.

Luke laughs, his favorite activity when we're together. -I think Roxy and Sergio wouldn't agree.- he comments, teasing me.

-But they are adults, this one instead, it's still a little puppy.- I rub my nose against his wet tip. -How are you, love?- I ask him then, whispering. -You have suffered so much, but your life will change today.- Luke puts the brake and based on the red light that is reflected in the lenses of my glasses, I suppose we are stop at a traffic light. -You will be so happy and you will give happiness.- I tell him, then I feel a male look on me. -What is it?- Luke raises his arms and then the green light comes out.

-Nothing.-

Outside the clinic where Phil lives, Luke repeats the instructions, holding me (perhaps unconsciously) by the arm. -So, did you understand everything? When I say "in that spirit", you come in with Lou.- he realizes I'm looking at him strangely. -What is it?- he asks, making me blush, but I hide behind the puppy.

-Nothing, it's...- is that hearing him say from his voice, from his mouth, it's... no. I nod, to convince him. -Yes, I understood everything.-

** Because the world has disappointed even you

While I'm doing weight lifting, to keep the whole body active and not even allow the arms to soften, someone touches me and giggles. I would recognize that voice everywhere. -Luke!- I exclaim, surprised. -Hey, dinner’s not till Friday, what are you doing here?- I place the weight on the ground and he sits right in front of me.

He has a serious look on his face. -I know you've been struggling with your recovery- he starts -…and I, uh, I think I know why.- well, he's not just a profiler, it's my best friend first of all. If he can't understand me, who else could? I sigh, but I let him continue. -After I got back from Iraq, I faced some struggles of my own.- yeah, it was really a good time. I remember the calls of his family, the hope that at least he was been in touch with me. I really believed that we would lose him. Luke fought that war hoping to get killed. We have never addressed this topic, but perhaps we should. He fought for the guilt he felt for not being the one in a wheelchair. -And if it hadn't been for Roxy I don't know where I'd be.- I can't stop myself and laugh before his face.

-You're obsessed with that dog, man. You need help.- Luke nods, chuckling back. But then he turns serious.

-I needed something to live for.- he says, and it's the biggest admission about his "black period" he has ever done. A heavy break follows. I nod. -Someone to push me.- and another one, but this time there is something strange in his eyes. He turns to the door. -So, in that spirit, ah... I...- he bends his lips in a strange way. -In that spirit...- he repeats then, stronger.

-Now? Yeah, ok.- whispers the voice of a woman who appears shortly after. She has a little dog in her arms. I don't know if Luke is laughing like me more for the whole scene or for his friend. Blonde, with glasses paired with a pink sweater and a dress with a bizarre weft. She smiles and her joy is contagious. Luke reaches out and strokes the dog.

-Now this puppy is gonna need a lot of love and... some walks.- I understand where he wants to go. I nod, still incredulous that he could have done such a thing for me. It doesn't matter that we've known each other for at least twenty years. Luke is not the type for big surprises. Luke is the guy who cares but doesn't know how to prove it. The woman leaps cradling the dog. -Better get busy getting better.- I signal that everything is clear and as she approaches, I allow myself to look at her better.

-Hi.- she says, and even her voice matches perfectly with the rest.

-Hi.- I echo her. In her eyes there is not even the slightest trace of pity, she doesn’t see me as a poor paralytic. I think she simply sees me as the future owner of the dog.

-This is... Lou!- she exclaims, excitedly, as she hands me the puppy. I lift him, to look at his nose, and it's really cute. Able to melt the heart of a tough former ranger soldier like me.

-Hi, Lou! Are you going to be my buddy?- here I started talking in a stupid voice, like people do with children. I owe Luke an apology. -You gonna be my little boy?- I do some scratches on his neck and he answers me by licking my face. I can't hold back the enthusiasm. But I'm not stunned to the point of not noticing that Luke is holding his supposed friend by her side. I don't think I've ever seen him so close to a woman who wasn't part of his family. -Lou’s going to be my buddy!- while Lou continues to kiss me, I seem to see him move his hand on her shoulder, but still keep her close. They both smile, she looking decidedly at the dog, he... we have something to talk about, in private, I guess. - Guys, I think so!- the woman reaches out to caress him on the head. I high five Luke, who leans over and hugs me. -Thank you, brother.- I feel him nodding on my shoulder. -Thank you, man.- I kiss Lou on the head. To avoid ending up whining, I go for one of my favorite activities from day one in the rangers: pricking Luke. -So, Luke, you haven't improved at all. Do not introduce me to your partner?- I wink, raising my eyebrows, but I notice a veil in my friend's eyes.

-She is...- he begins to speak, but the woman precedes him, reaching me, holding out her hand loaded with colored bracelets.

-My name is Penelope, even if everyone prefers to call me Garcia.- it is soft, delicate and fresh. -We work together...- she adds, glancing at Luke. But already from the name or surname, I should have understood. That's why it seemed to me I already knew her! Because someone had talked to me extensively about her, whenever I asked "How is the profiler job going?".

-Oh.- I say in fact, meeting the gaze of Luke, who tries to electrocute me and mimes with his lips a "don't try" that doesn't seem at all threatening. Even Penelope has noticed this exchange of looks. She looks at her colleague, then at me, at Luke again and finally at me.

-What?- she asks, scrutinizing us in turn. -Is there anything I should know?- in the end she decides to opt for me, considering that Luke will probably remain silent like a fish. Smart, the girl. But of course, she is the oracle of the BAU, an absolute genius, the one without whom it would not be possible to resolve any case. Of course, they are not my words.

I raise my hands. -It's not up to me to decide.- I look at Luke, who merely opens his eyes. They go back to focusing on Penelope. -And how did that scoundrel get you involved?- she laughs, appreciating my joke, which was pretty obvious and bad. She's so generous, you know, she helped one downstairs and asked nothing in return, I hear Luke's voice echoing in my ears.

-Because I love all animals.- she answers with a serious expression. -I'm also a vegetarian!- then she blushes, I notice that she throws a quick glance at Luke, spreads her arms and then leans over to caress Lou, still on my legs. -Sorry, I don't think you are interested, I'm usually to rambling when I'm nervous.- she explains, giving me a smile that affects all the right points. How could I blame Luke? I've only known her for ten minutes and already I find her fantastic. She has something different from the other women I met.

-It's okay.- I say, touching her arm and catching a fire look from my best friend. -I like to hear you talk.- I wink and she chuckles. -Tell me something more about yourself, are you dating...- I start talking, not even I know if I'm doing it to make Luke jealous (and consequently to make him react) or because I'm interested in knowing her for myself.

In any case, my best friend disagrees. -Phil, I think we should go, it's late and tomorrow is a working day.- he babbles, trying to sound convincing and looking at Penelope hoping she nods.

-But if we've been here for just five minutes and it's only nine o'clock.- she protests instead.

I touch her hand, this time looking only at her. -Forget it, he has to run to his girlfriend.- she opens her eyes wide, then I hasten to add a detail. -I mean the dog, don't look at me like that.- I turn to Luke, who shakes his head with a strange, crooked smile on his mouth.

-Yeah.- he nods when he recovers. -And Sergio is waiting for you too.- he says in an annoyed tone, unable to mask what he is feeling, despite being one of the best in undercover operations.

I decide to help him. -Sergio? It's...- Penelope anticipates him.

-My cat.- she says. -My old black cat with a gray mustache.- she glares at her colleague with a dirty look. He seems in trouble.

-I'd like to meet him one day.- I smile.

-I'd like it too.- she replies and we keep looking at each other until Luke breaks the atmosphere.

He brushes her on the shoulder. -Garcia, we have to go, really.- she looks away from me reluctantly and rolls her eyes.

-All right, all right.- she turns back to me. -So, I hope...- this time I'm the one to anticipate her.

-I hope to see you again soon.- I reach out and she understands, holding out my cheek. I place a quick kiss on her cheek and feel her scent invade my nostrils. Luke stands with his mouth open beside us. -I am always here. And also Lou.- I wink at her and she smiles, stroking the little dog once more.

The third-wheel clears its throat. -Phil, can we talk a second by ourselves?- he asks. The blonde understands the hint and moves away a few steps. She seems confused, and I understand why. Luke is acting like a child who doesn't want others to touch his favorite toy.

He doesn’t notice, because he is too focused on me, but Penelope looks at him strangely for a few moments and this, more than anything else, gives me the definitive proof that no matter how good it would be, I can’t not even flirt with her. -Okay, I'll wait in the parking lot.- she greets me with her hand, and perhaps turns to the dog, but Luke stops her, grabbing her by the wrist.

He opens her hand and puts something on her palm. -Take the keys, I don't want that happens something.- he says only, with his eyes almost out of their sockets, and certainly unaware of all this. She says nothing and disappears.

-So, brother, what do you have to tell me?- I go straight to the point.

Luke shakes his head and opens his mouth without saying anything. I just wait. -What you must tell me!- he finally exclaims. -How did you behave with my colleague?- I burst out laughing in his face. Between brothers is allowed.

-Listen to him.- I cover Lou ears. -My colleague.- I imitate his voice. -That's the woman you told me about.- I accuse him, grinning. -Everything is clear. And now I understand why you're so obsessed with her.- eyebrow movement.

He tries to deny. -I'm not obsessed.- he glances at the window. From where you can see the parking lot. But of course not, he's just a little fixated. -And in any case, you're not her type.- he adds, muttering. It is too funny. I've never seen Luke taken in this way. It never happened that we liked the same girl, though.

-Uh, no?- I bend my lips in a strange way, to tease him. -She didn't seem of the same mind and... let's hear, what would it be, her ideal man? Like you?- he blushes to the tip of the ears.

-I didn't... I didn't mean this.- he replies.

Okay, I've had enough. -Man, you have to wake up.- I signal to him to approach and then I give him a push. He looks at me as if I've betrayed him. -If you don't, I'll take care of it.- I threaten him. He opens his mouth again. I didn't know my best friend had turned into a fish.

-What ...?- I spread my arms and bend my head to one side.

-Well, she's nice, pretty and I'm not afraid of catching a pullback or a “no, thanks”.- I simply say. I see him suddenly become sad. I sigh. -I know that I will regret what I am about to tell you.- everything he feels is intuitable just from the eyes. Not everyone could interpret it correctly. -I already had a woman in mind that I wanted you to meet, she is my physiotherapist, her name is Lisa and...- he silences me with a voice that is almost shrill.

-Phil.- his gaze is serious.

-Okay, sorry.- Lou starts to whine, maybe he's sleepy. -I see that the situation is tragic.- the last zinger. -Luke, brother, even Penelope feels something for you, she cares about you, it's so obvious that only you can not notice it!- Luke seems almost frightened by this perspective, rather than happy.

-She... she loves the whole team.- he replies, as a justification.

I nod. -Yes, but with whom did she spend Wednesday night, after a case?- I point out to him. He opens his eyes. -Don't look at me like that, I don't spy on you, I just read the newspapers.- Luke says nothing for a moment.

Then, without looking at me: -She did it for Lou...- hearing his name, the dog (yes, he already understood that this is his name, I suspect that Penelope repeated it just a couple of times) tries to stand up.

-No, she didn't do it just for the dog.- he strokes his head and he licks my hand. -Now I have to take care of him, so I'll make this quick: take the opportunity or someone else will do it.- the last threat. I reach out a hand and he squeezes it. -Good night, Romeo!- I greet him.

-Good night.- he replies, but I could swear I heard him tremble.

-Oh, I forgot!- I have stopped him while he was already on the threshold. -If I find out that you didn't doing anything tonight, I'll talk about it with your abuela and we’ll see if she won't make move your ass!-

*** This is the time to live you, to the last part of me and not ask me where and why, you just have to trust me

When I reach my car, I dread finding it empty. I know it's absurd, but fears are irrational, they don't follow logic. I open the driver's door and see her sitting there. -Hey, it took you a century.- she jokes, but I can't really laugh this time. -What did you talk about, maybe about me?- she also seems to notice that there is something different in me. -I’m joking.- she adds then, with a sorry tone and it breaks my heart. -Luke, you're weird.- she comments. I haven't turned the key in the ignition yet.

I force myself to turn around and look into her eyes. -Me? No.- but it was a mistake. Then I start the engine and decide to look carefully at the road. But out of the corner of my eye I can still see her.

-Your friend is really a good person.- she comments, and I nod. -I understand right away this kind of thing.- she adds and I can't help but wonder if she has thought the same thing about me when we met. Theoretically not, for the way she treated me, but since it was only a facade... -I feel it.- she puts her hand on the edge of the seat, which grazes mine while I put another gear.

-Yes.- I only reply, as I can't do much else.

But Penelope doesn’t seem willing to stop talking. -It's also nice, as I imagined.- I have nothing to add to this. -I suppose he's single.- I sigh. Is it right that I try in vain not to let them go out together? It's a rhetorical question. I already know the answer.

-Yes.- I confirm, reluctantly, feeling like shit.

Even if only in passing, I recognize the appearance of a smile on her face. I wish it were for me. -And by chance... he asked for something of me?- surely I don't have to put myself in the middle, but I can't, no matter how hard I try, I can't really facilitate the birth of a relationship between them. Well, they maybe would understand that they are not compatible as more than just friends. Yes, of course. It only took a few minutes for Phil to fall victim to her unique charm. And she seemed pretty involved too. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to let her help me.

I breathe in and out three times before opening my mouth again. -Garcia, we could... we could change the subject?- I ask her, hoping not to look too desperate. -I don't want to talk about it.- she looks at me for a while and then nods.

-Ok.- so she is silent, she says nothing and nothing interesting to say comes to my mind. After about a quarter of an hour, stopping at a traffic jam caused by a minor accident, I turn to her, who has a melancholy look, her head turned towards the window.

-Hey, is everything okay?- I brushes her leg, more or less consciously. I think back to the embrace we exchanged, just a few hours ago. -I'm driving too abrupt?- but I know the solution isn't that simple.

As soon as she turns, shaking her head, she manages to catch my eyes. It's scary how much power she has over me. Fortunately, I don't think she is aware of it. -No, no.- she feels obliged to reassure me. I think back to Phil's words, to the threat of talking to my grandmother about it. I quickly judge how well he would be able to do it.

-You are taciturn.- I comment then. One step at a time. -It's not something you usually do.- she doesn't answer, but keeps looking at me. -Is for what I said before? If you really care...- she stops me, much more bravely than me, or maybe it costs her nothing to do it, putting her hand on mine. I swallow. I hope she doesn't notice the turmoil going on inside me.

-No, it's not about that.- she then clarifies and lets me go because finally it seems that we are starting to move again. But why am I so damn convinced that otherwise she wouldn't have come off?

-Oh.- I feel the need to scratch my head. -So... what are you thinking?- I hasten to reasses. -If I have the right to know.- Penelope didn't take the opportunity to pull back. Which is bizarre, because in her place I would certainly have done it.

-I was thinking about...- she hesitates. -You know, while I was out the door, I heard you... I heard you say that thing to Phil and...- well, if I hadn't lived really extreme situations, now I would feel the need to vomit. -I'm sorry, I know my words don't count, but I'm sorry that you and him had to live such traumatic things and I know you voluntarily decided to enlist, or at least you, but...- I can breath again. She's not talking about our final discussion about her, but of earlier, when she was waiting for my signal with Lou. Late, I realize what she said, and something different, not fear, but... a sense of understanding, of empathy, absolute, which I think I felt only with Phil, before today. -It's just that I can't help but imagine you at that moment, all alone, disoriented and I know it's not my business, but...- I feel a lump in my throat. -Sorry, I really have to learn to hold my tongue in check, I don't do it on purpose, by now you know me, I let myself go when I'm nervous...- I force myself to react, because I can't really believe that all this apprehension doesn't mean anything.

-And why are you nervous, Penelope?- we look at each other for one second that seems to last a whole life. She seems to find the answer she was looking for in my eyes.

-Uh, I think a good definition is...- I feel in the air, yes, exactly in the air, and Phil would laugh so much at me, but I feel in the air that the next sentence that she will say, it will change the course of my life. -...is that I care about you and I love you.- I decide to follow her example and jump.

I signal the turn and I stop at the edge of the road. -Like to one of the team?- I ask her, turning to her and putting my hand on hers.

-What?- she replies with another question, but I understand that she doesn’t do it to avoid the question, she hasn’t really understood, she hasn't guessed the scope of my sentence.

Then I do something really unthinkable. A small thing, but not for me. -Do you only love me as a member of the BAU?- I interlace my fingers with hers.

Penelope falters, but can't take her eyes off mine. -I...- I think she's uncomfortable and that's not what I wanted. With the other hand I stroke her back.

-You don't have to answer.- I say in a calm tone of voice. -I'm sorry.- I add.

However, I feel her increase the grip. -No.- convinced voice. -I want it, I want to answer.- she makes a big sigh. -I love you more than as a colleague and even more than as a friend...- she finally says and I really find it hard to concentrate on what comes next. -I have... I have a crush on you.- yes, she has said it, there are no more doubts or spaces for ambiguity. -And I'm sorry that you had to find out this way and I know I wouldn't have the right to feel anything for you because I always treated you badly but I didn't want to, it was a way of curbing it, but it didn't work and it showed so easy, and I’m so sorry, I...- I move my hand on her mouth to gently silence her. I would have preferred a kiss, but first... first there are things I have to say.

-Penelope. Stop apologize.- she nods, like an obedient child. I'm dying to kiss her, but I have to check myself. -The heart goes where it goes, right?- it comes out instead. She takes it seriously.

-And love is blind, like luck.- she replies. Our hands are still intertwined.

-Yeah.- I begin to lean towards her face. -But it happens that I can see very well.- her pupils dilate. I don't want to prolong this torture for both. -I also have a crush on you.- I say then, then I realize I haven't said the right thing. -No, it's not the truth.- the sparkle in her eyes goes out instantly.

-I thought it was strange.- she also comments with a disillusioned tone and I understand that I cannot allow her to believe that I have teased or deceived her.

So, I take her face with my hands and caress her by moving only my thumbs. -Because I'm in love with you.- she opens her mouth. -Phil called me obsessed. And yes, we talked about you, practically only about that.- I answer the question that I previously avoided. She looks even more amazed. -He told me I had to wake up, otherwise...- this time she gets the matter right away.

-Wow.- she chuckles. -How is it possible that two hot military are into me and neither of them wants to shoot me?- but this subject is not particularly pleasing to me. I can't think of that bastard and I had need confession because of him. Apparently, it is also a sin wanting to kill those who are already dead.

-I don't want to talk about Battle.- I reply in fact, in a snarl.

She doesn't get scared, but looks upset. -You know?- she asks, turning to the window. I leave my fingers run into her blonde hair. Another thing that I don't know how long I've wanted to do. There are many, but I have to be patient.

-Yes, JJ told me about it.- I explained hastily. -But now I would like to address and in-vestigate another type of topic...- my voice becomes hoarse and she seems to realize what is about to happen. My hands are always around her face. The belt prevents me from moving, so I take it off. One of her hand rests on my leg and the other on my shoulder.

-Oh.- she only whispers. I bend down, leaving a kiss on her forehead, one on her nose, a series of kisses on her cheeks, I don't know why and where did I get this idea that only prolongs the wait, but then I feel Penelope increase the grip and reaches my mouth. I completely lose my mind, even if I can behave like a perfect gentleman and not like an animal in heat. Short kisses, longer kisses, wet kisses, dry kisses, sweet kisses and hungry kisses. I soon lose the bill.

It is she who breaks away. If it were up to me, I would probably have died due to lack of oxygen. -Luke...- she pronounces my name in a small voice. I think it's the most erotic thing I've ever heard. She begins to feel a certain problem, but I ignore it (or postpone it).

-What?- I ask, taking advantage of it to fill my lungs.

She bites her lip, then chuckles nervously. -Maybe I read too many thrillers, but... wouldn't it be better if we moved?- she looks through the windshield. It's dark, and it's starting to drizzle. -Someone might arrive and it would be embarrassing to explain... even if we aren't doing anything.- she blushes. I stroke her cheek, taking advantage to steal another quick kiss. I believe this will become a pleasant habit.

-Yes, you're right.- I hesitate on her lips, it’s like a drug. -It's that, hell, it was so long that I wanted to do it.- I sigh and we both end up laughing like two teenagers. -And probably I should have kept it for me.- I add.

-No!- she leans on my shoulder. -I like your being so... spontaneous. Without filters.- I see her smile, and it's so beautiful that it makes my heart beat faster.

-Oh well.- I reply. -I'm not very good at these things.- I confess. I keep saying things that I'd better don't say aloud.

But she looks at me, serious. -It also a lot that I'm off the grid...- she reveals. -But it doesn't matter, right?- I understand what she means.

-Right.- I echo her. With an inhuman effort I return to my seat and fasten my belt. -Where... where do you want me to take you?- I'm in no hurry, right? I can respect her time, can't I? -At your home or... - Penelope shakes her head.

-Luke, why do you have to tempt me so shamelessly?- it seems that I wasn't the only one who thought about it. -I am afraid of what might happen if I spend the night with you.- yes, I think I understand what she means. A passion like ours, held for almost two years, what kind of consequences will it bring?

I start the engine and enter the road again. -Chose freely, but remember that we don't have to do anything.- it is so. I just have to convince myself.

-No, we don't have to, but do you think we'll be able to hold ourselves back?- she asks, reading my thoughts. I already feel disappointment, even though I would not be entitled to it, given how the evening has evolved. -On the other hand... I'd like to see Roxy again, I miss her.- she rekindles all hopes and laughs at my expression.

-Didn't Lou be enough for you?- I ask, trying to dissemble.

-No, I'll never get enough of cuddling puppies.- she replies promptly.

-And the same for me, but of you.- I answer as determined and convinced.

-Wow.- is her reaction. -It's strange, beautiful but strange.- she touches my hand on the steering wheel. -I'll get a little used to it.- I hope it never happens, it's what I wish for both. I am convinced that it will not happen to me.

Later, we finally reach my apartment. I turn the key and let Penelope enter first. -Rox!- my girl immediately assaults her; it is so beautiful that now this sentence is like a multiplication, with interchangeable factors. -Love, how beautiful are you?- Roxy cleans her face and she returns her, filling her with kisses. -Listen to me, honey.- I hear her say solemnly, -From this moment on you have a very important task: you have to help Uncle Phil and Lou, you'll be a good sister, aren't you? I know you will be.- then she looks at me, from bottom to top. -You see? She has understood that I don’t love her less.- she points out, proud. -Why are you looking at me like that? You think I’m crazy, right?- I shake my head and bring her back to an upright position.

-No.- her face at my height, despite the difference in stature between us. -I think you're adorable.- she gives me one of her magical smiles and puts her arms around my neck. - And about me, how much you love me?- I ask, with a mischievous tone.

Her eyes flicker here and there. -I don't know, it's hard to quantify it.- she replies.

I nod. -You're right, but...- I'm going to say it, I have to say. I want to tell her before... before what may or may not happen. So she can understands that I really think so. -I love you.- she just squeezes her lips a little. -I mean it seriously.- I add.

-I love too.- she says, and I know that from this moment, whatever may happen, the world can no longer be the same. It will be a magnificent place. -But if this is a dream, give me five more minutes.- we laugh together, holding each other in a poignant embrace.

-It's all true.- I whisper in her ear, feeling her shudder. -And if it were not, I would like to stay asleep next to you.- we move to the bed, let's get back to kissing each other, then she collapses, as a consequence of all the emotions experienced during this evening. I stay for about a quarter of an hour looking at her. -What do you say, Rox, should I thank Phil?- the dog gives me a significant look. -Yup. Tomorrow I text him.- I also turn off the last light, I lie down beside Penelope, wrapping my arms around her body and I fall asleep at once.

-----------------------

TAGS: @martinab26 @reidskitty13 @thinitta @garvezz @mercedes-maldonado @shyladystudentfan @pegasus-scifichick @paperwalk @inlovewithgarvaz @the-ellen-stuff @astressedwriter @ilovecatswwehp @symphonyashley @jess-the-introvert @veronicafiore88

#garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #criminal minds #cm #penelope x luke #luke x penelope #garcia x alvez #alvez x garcia #phil brooks #penelope x phil #lou #roxy #post 13x7 #dust and bones #BAU team #tiziano ferro #michele zarrillo #l'alfabeto degli amanti

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thorongil82 · 5 years

Text

Silver Rings for a Web of Love - Chapter 2

Can also be read on AO3 here:

Chapter Summary: How to ask out your crush who doesn't trust you while keeping your superhero identity a secret.

Chapter: 2/?

Words: 8422 of 12023 total

A/N: Hi. Sorry for the delay. Just quickly, yes, I’ve seen Endgame. There will be no spoilers in this chapter, and I’m not sure how much I’ll use of it. Mainly, I’m still going to stick to my original idea. Onwards!

Chapter 2 - What to Say?

Song of the Chapter: Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls

“You are my paradise and I would happily get stranded on you for a lifetime."

~ Unknown

“Peter!” Aunt May cheerfully greets as she opens the apartment door up to her nephew, quickly enveloping the spiderling in a big hug.

“Sorry I'm so late,” Peter apologises as he wraps his arms around his aunt.

“Aw, nonsense,” May says as she waves him off, untangling her arms from his. “Tony let me know beforehand. Not that I think he should've taken away from our time together, but that's just how these things work out.”

May steps aside, her long auburn hair sweeping around behind her back as she lets Peter walk into the apartment. Over the years, more pictures of Peter seemed to take up the free space around the rooms. Whether it be along the walls or lining the drawers, more and more memories seemed to envelope the space the Parker's lived in. And, since the younger Parker has left to live in his own apartment with Ned, the number only seems to have grown exponentially, along with the pictures of her and Uncle Ben.

Apart from the great increase of family photos, everything appeared to be relatively the same as Peter stepped through the door. The layout still remained the same, no matter that the number of inhabitants had downgraded from two to one. From within the kitchen, the sizzling sounds of food frying over the stove-top hisses away with the slight flicks of smoke wafting over, while sitting on one side of the dining room table is Ned with his head face down in a laptop, only glancing up slightly to see his best friend walk through the door.

"So, you've already ordered Thai?" Peter jokes with a grin, only to receive a firm smack on the arm from his Aunt as she walks by. "Hey!"

"Don't 'Hey!' me, I'm still trying here," May defends as she moves into the kitchen.

“Hey, dude,” he greets, holding up his fist over the screen.

“Hey, Ned,” Peter replies, walking over and doing their special handshake. “What are you doing? I thought you finished your exams today.”

“Yeah, I did. I'm just helping Betty out with her assessment,” he answers with a giant beaming smile. “She was panicking about how she couldn't get what was wrong with it and that this was going to cost her everything, so I offered to have a look over it for her.”

“Isn't that a little counter-productive?” Peter questions as he slings the backpack he had been carrying all day off his shoulders and onto the floor.

“Not really,” Ned replies as his eyes drift back down to the screen. “A lot of people will get others to check their work for errors before it gets submitted, and that's mainly for jobs.”

“Doesn't that kinda depend on the work?” Peter inquires as he slides into the chair opposite his best friend.

“Not necessarily,” Ned responds. “Besides, I'm only really checking for spelling, grammar and punctuation. I'm not changing any facts or anything like that.”

“Wasn't Betty the one that was stronger in English?”

“Apparently it helps to have someone else read it,” Ned shrugs. “Something about it being a lot easier to spot someone else's mistakes than your own.”

“Still seems a little detrimental to me.”

“You do it for others at Stark Industries,” Ned retorts, not even looking up from his laptop.

“And wasn't that what you both did with Michelle for your college applications?” May adds from back within the kitchen.

“Okay, okay,” Peter surrenders, bringing his hands up as he slips his backpack off his shoulder and slides into the dining table chair opposite Ned. “I just think that it's a bit different. Exams and assessments are supposed to be about what you can do.”

“So, what did you and Stark do?” Ned questions, excited eyes flickering up from the laptop screen.

No matter how long Peter had been running around as Spider-Man, Ned always seemed just as excited about the prospect of his best friend having adventures with other superheroes. Perhaps getting even more excited over time.

“Not too much. Just helped with a new Iron Man suit design,” Peter explains. “Figuring out some of the adjustments and calibrations that would be needed to get it working the way Mr. Stark would like it to.”

The young Parker leans forward in his chair as a stupidly broad grin explodes across his face.

“Mr. Stark really wants to try and get one up on Shuri. He's trying to compress the nanites further so that he can fit more of them into his chest-piece. We're also going to make them move and react faster than ever. Mr. Stark's also planning to improve on the energy absorption system. He wants to not only absorb the kinetic energy of an impact, but also transfer it throughout the suit so that it can be released in different ways. Not just having it all explode around him, but also focusing it out into a directed blast.”

“But not just that!” Peter exclaims as the chair beneath him slides away across the apartment floor, pushed out as the spiderling leaps to his feet. “We're also looking at transforming the energy between states, so he can feed the harnessed energy into his power conduits, or use it for his repulsors, or thrusters, or any of his equipment! Obviously that part is the most complex. But if we can manage to make it work … I'm telling you, man. It's going to be so cool!”

“Awesome! When do we get to see it in action?” Ned asks as he leans forward, fully facing Peter as the laptop and Betty's assessment are completely forgotten.

“Uh … I dunno,” Peter admits, his face dropping slightly. “It depends. I mean, it's not necessarily going to work straight away. There will more than likely be some trial and error involved. Plus, it's not like it's going to be produced quickly. These things can take time.”

“I think it would be unlikely that Tony Stark would just wear it out right away anyway,” May adds in from the kitchen. “And hopefully we don't need him wearing it any time soon. I don't know about you both, but I've had enough alien attacks for quite a while.”

“Alien attacks are awesome!” Ned rebuts loudly, nearly jumping out of his chair. “You never know what new technology they'll bring in!”

“Yeah, and besides, it's not like it'd be the strangest thing Mr. Stark's ever done to just wear a suit for the sake of it,” Peter tags on, nodding his head.

“Still,” May seemingly grumbles as she shuffles from the sizzling wok to the bubbling saucepan, “I would be fine with another end of the world event not appearing for more than a few years. If not for my heart's sake.”

“Why's that?” both Peter and Ned question as they tilt their heads towards the older Parker with furrowed brows.

“Why do you think?!” May asserts strongly as she spins around, brandishing a wooden spoon at the pair. “My nephew goes gallivanting off in a skin-tight outfit at the first sign of danger! Maybe I'd like for him to be safe for more than a passing day or two!”

“Oh … uh, right,” Ned mumbles as he sheepishly turns his gaze back to the laptop screen he had momentarily forgotten about, while Peter slouches over and guiltily stares at the wooden tabletop, his face burning slightly at his Aunt's assertive tone.

It hadn't been a good start when May accidentally found out about Peter being Spider-Man. At first, after seeing him drag the mask off his head the day he turned down Mr. Stark's offer – and subsequentially passed the 'test' – she had been furious. Peter had never seen his aunt so enraged. He swears on his life that she could have even faced down Hulk in her state and the humongous muscular being would have backed down. He was forced to sit on the couch as she vehemently shrieked, yelled and teared up over how “stupidly reckless” he had been, by both sneaking around in his vigilante persona and hiding everything from her. He had thought it was bad enough, until Mr. Stark was then rung up and brought over, both teenage nephew and billionaire hero incurring her wrath. The eventual compromise, to which Peter could keep being Spider-Man while May could have some peace of mind, was an imposed curfew where there was no patrolling allowed while he should be at school, if he had homework, after 10 PM on a school night and after 11 PM if there wasn't any school the next day. He also had to answer every call and reply to every text message that she sent while he was zipping through the skyline, while also letting her know when he would be back, and she was to receive a full medical report if he ever got injured and needed to be treated at the compound upstate.

Over time that rage had diminished, far quicker than Peter had expected it to, until May seemed to have accepted that Peter could handle himself safely and responsibly – what wasn't reported on the news stations wouldn't hurt her – and the curfews all but disappeared. It had gotten so much better to the point that she was far more relaxed and happy with his heroics, despite her worries, and would even suggest for Spider-Man to come and offer his support to groups that she was helping with. This also included possibly joining in with a homeless shelter program that she had been planning on creating for a while. When Thanos and his alien friends attacked, Peter almost expected the curfews to return once he had finally been saved and flown back home, but instead May was so relieved that she hadn't truly lost another loved family member that she just wanted to make sure he was safe, sound, and enjoying life. And with her homeless shelter, now called F.E.A.S.T., taking off in the months of despair and confusion after The Decimation, both Peter and Spider-Man set to work helping draw publicity to the noble foundation, while Peter looked to aid May with taking care of the people who came.

Even so, despite her gradually growing optimism of Peter's superhero persona and actions, May would still grip onto an understandable fear that his selfless nature and desire to help, both she knew were very admirable traits, would someday result with her sweet nephew ending up like the loving uncle that had raised him to embrace those attributes. And occasionally it would bubble to the surface. Just like now.

The apartment falls quiet after May's short outburst, split only by the occasional click of keys pressed on Ned's keyboard and the sizzling of the stove top, before being broken as Ned glances up and meekly asks, “Are you going to get the same upgrades?”

“Maybe,” Peter answers, not entirely sure himself. “I might just get some of them. If any, probably the faster nanites.”

“And why did he ask you to go today? Don't you normally go tomorrow?”

“He's flying out tomorrow with Ms. Potts to spend some time away before the wedding.”

“Do you know where they're going?” May asks from the kitchen, having turned back to the wok.

“Well …” Peter drawls as he fishes through his backpack before pulling out the envelope. He opens it up and pulls out one of the boarding passes. “Looks like they're going to New Zealand.”

“Dude, did you steal Mr. Stark's pass?!” Ned exclaims, as the clattering sound of wood against metal comes from the kitchen, followed shortly afterwards by wood hitting the wooden floor.

“What?! N-No!” Peter abruptly leans back at Ned's exclamation. He watches May reach down and pick her wooden spoon off the floor before tossing it into the sink, her eyes looking at her nephew. “I was invited to the wedding. And to the celebrations beforehand.”

“Holy shit …” Ned gasps, his eyes going as wide as dinner plates.

“Honey, that's incredible!” May squeals as she moves round the kitchen bench and over to Peter, hugging him from behind and giving him a light kiss on the forehead.

“I still can't believe I was invited,” the spiderling admits as he shrinks into himself.

“The wedding's in a fortnight, right?” Ned asks, answered by a short nod from Peter. “So when are you flying out?”

“This Saturday.”

“Why that early?” May inquires, leaning back from her nephew.

“Well, Mr. Stark said that they wanted to spend some time just relaxing with the other Avengers before the wedding,” Peter explains as he fidgets with the envelope. “Take a break from superheroing.”

“Well, you look like you could do with the rest,” May says, her hand ruffling through her nephew's hair. “Do you mind if I see the invitation?”

“Yeah,” the young Parker shrugs as he searches through the envelope before pulling out an invite, also inadvertently dragging the other invite out with it. Peter separates the two beautifully decorated cards and hands one to his aunt, who glances at the other as she takes it before reading the information.

“Why do you have two?” she inquires, her eyes darting over the words.

“Uh, because I'm allowed to bring a guest,” Peter slowly answers. “I'd have asked either of you, but I know you're both busy.”

“Aw, man!” Ned moans, burying his face in his hands. “I almost wish I wasn't going to visit family. I'd have loved to go!”

“Ned! Don't you dare think about ditching your family, or poor Betty,” May scolds, fixing Ned with a glare.

“So, who're you asking, then?” Ned perks up again, his excitable state instantly replacing his short regrets.

“No one, probably,” Peter quietly answers.

“Why not?” May questions.

“Well, who else besides you two would make sense? No one else knows about me being Spider-Man. And besides, it's not like they'll keep it under wraps that well.”

“Just because you can't keep a secret doesn't mean other superheroes can't,” May reminds him as she hands him back the invitation.

“W-What?! I can keep a secret.”

“Please, Peter, you could barely keep your alter ego a secret,” she responds with a wave of her hand.

“Hey, barely anyone knows that I'm Spider-Man,” Peter retorts as he slides the invitation back into the envelope.

“And how many people have you told?” Ned asks with a raised eyebrow.

“N-No one,” Peter mumbles.

“Exactly,” his best friend nods, accepting the high five from a grinning May as she takes the scenic route round the table to get back into the kitchen.

“... Shut up,” Peter pouts, trying to fix them both with as intimidating a glare as he can – which is not very scary.

The apartment falls quiet once again save for the sizzling sounds in the kitchen and the occasional clicking of Ned's keyboard. Outside, Peter can hear the general hustle and bustle of Queens life in the early evening, along with the shouted voices from a flat downstairs that may require a visit from a man dressed in red and blue if it keeps up, and the muffled sounds of the TV a couple of doors over and across the hall that belongs to a particularly nice old lady named Mrs. Thompson who May has enjoyed tea with for the past ten years, before focusing in on a set of footsteps clunking heavily along the corridor until they come to a stop in front of May's door.

“Peter, can you get that please?” May calls out from the kitchen.

“Yeah, sure.”

Peter leaps up out of his chair and deftly springs across to the door. Opening up, his eyes widen as they fall upon a taller woman who's bushy brown hair is pulled back into a bun save for a couple of curly bangs that delicately fall down the side of her face, wearing a zipped up grey hoodie, a pair of torn and faded denim jeans, and bulky combat boots covering her feet.

“M-Michelle?!”

“Weren't expecting me, loser?”

“No, n-not really …” he admits. After a tentative gulp his lips part again, only to flounder as the vast number words he possesses in his vocabulary suddenly go on strike and refuse to work in any form – nary a gargle, whisper or squeak, and his brain enters a state of shock that lasts until she clears her throat.

“So … are you going to let me in?”

“Huh? O-Oh, uh, yeah, sure,” he manages to utter as he steps aside to let her in.

As soon as she manages to step past the threshold of the apartment an auburn blur rushes out of the kitchen in a speed that the younger Parker has barely witnessed before.

“Michelle!” May greets with a beaming smile, sweeping MJ up in a hug that stiffens her up. “How are you sweetie?!”

“I'm good,” Michelle replies softly with a smile Peter cannot see as she melts into the arms of Aunt May, hugging her back and resting her head on her shoulder. Peter knows that no one can resist the warmth of his aunt - not even the almighty Michelle Jones.

Peter gently closes the door shut and shoots a questioning look at May, who simply responds by maintaining her loving smile and raising her eyebrows back at him.

“Sorry I'm late,” MJ says as she breaks the hold.

“No, you're right on time,” May replies, dismissing her apology with a wave of her hand. “Dinner should be just about ready.”

“So we've already ordered Thai?” Michelle jokes, getting a laugh from May as she walks back into the kitchen.

“Wait, why do I get hit for saying that and she doesn't?” Peter questions.

“Simple: you're a loser, and I'm me,” MJ speaks up as she sits down at the table in the spare chair beside Ned before turning to her table neighbour. “Hey, loser number two.”

“Hey,” Ned absentmindedly greets as he continues looking over Betty's project. “Hang on, I'm number two?”

“Congratulations, you can hear clearly.”

“Why am I number two?” he asks in confusion.

“I wouldn't argue. You don't want to be number one,” she states, gesturing to Peter who shares Ned's muddled expression

“Uh, thanks?” Peter replies uncertainly.

“It's not a compliment.”

“Thanks,” he repeats far more bluntly than the first as his shoulders sag.

“Peter, can you give me a hand?” May asks from the kitchen.

“Sure thing.”

Peter heads into the kitchen and, seeing May gesture to the cupboards and drawers with the end of the wooden spoon, starts to pull out bowls and cutlery for everyone.

“Why didn't you say she was coming?” he whispers.

“I forgot,” she whispers back, her small smirk giving away her lie. Peter just stands there mid-reach for a bowl, glaring at her until she sighs and amends, “Okay, I didn't want to make you nervous.”

“Nervous doesn't cover it.”

“Don't tell me you've made it worse again?”

“No!” Peter hisses sharply before covering his mouth. At a quick glance over the counter and seeing that Ned and Michelle didn't hear his outburst, or at least aren't responding to it, he continues on. “At least, I don't think I have … I had only just started making some sense of her before Mysterio. Now I'm back to square one.”

“It'll be fine, sweetie. If she hated you, she wouldn't be here.”

“She would. She just wouldn't be talking to me.”

“There, you've still got something figured out.”

“ … Doesn't that applied to everyone?”

“Ok, you've still got a lot to learn,” May admits with a sigh.

“Too much,” he agrees with a nod.

“Hey, why don't you ask her to Stark's wedding?” she whispers, her eyes brightening while his widens at her question before narrowing to a squint.

“Mr. Stark put you up to this, didn't he? Is that why you invited Michelle?”

“What? No! I'd already invited MJ before he called me about you. Why? What did he say?”

“He thinks I should invite her,” he mumbles.

“You should,” May agrees, holding out a hand. “Bowl.”

“I can't,” Peter opposes as he hands her a bowl, which she starts scooping rice into out of the saucepan.

“Why not?”

“How would I explain everything?” Peter asks as May moves on to adding the fried vegetables in. “She doesn't know that I'm Spider-Man.”

“You haven't told her,” May points out as she hands him the meal and gestures for another bowl. “And that hasn't stopped anyone finding out yet.”

“Still-”

“I think it's a good idea,” May presses on, filling up the second bowl and handing it to Peter. “It'll help you both get closer again.”

As she glances back at Peter after he hands her the third bowl, she notices the calculating expression of his as he stares off at a randomly chosen point in the floorboards, lost deep in thought.

“I know that look, you're overthinking again.”

“Am not,” he replies, snapping his attention back to May.

“It's not like anything will happen there,” she promises filling up the third bowl and swapping it for the last one. “Who would be silly enough to attack a place crawling with Avengers.”

“Don't jinx it,” Peter groans, rubbing his face with his hands.

“It's only jinxed if it happens,” May points out with a raise of her spoon. “Which would mean you'd need to bring her.”

“So, that's another reason not to invite her.”

May pauses for a second before answering. “That worked against me, didn't it?"

“The point is, that you always overthink things when you're worrying for others,” May continues at her normal volume as she gathers her bowl and cutlery and takes it over to the dining table, leaving Peter to carry Michelle's and Ned's. “It's sweet, but you need to relax. She'll be fine. Ned, put your laptop away.”

“Yes, May,” Ned says as he starts to put it to sleep while Peter sets MJ's food in front of her, the girl perking up at May's words.

“Peter's worried about a girl?” she asks as Peter sets Ned's meal in front of him while he is sliding the laptop into his bag underneath the table.

“Yes,” May simply states as she pokes through the food with her fork and spoon, while Peter simultaneously pulls back with a sudden, “N-No!”

“Don't worry, it's just work related,” May explains, causing Peter to groan as he goes to grab his food from the kitchen.

“So, who's this mystery girl?” MJ questions with a face schooled for many long years to give nothing away, her elbows on the table resting either side of her bowl while her hands are clasped together above it.

“Why are you so interested?” Peter snaps as he sets his bowl and cutlery down.

“Peter!” May scolds.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Fishing for new material,” Michelle answers. “Not that I really need it for you. There's just so much to tease you for. It's a bottomless pit.”

“Th-This looks really good, May,” Ned says, glancing nervously between his two friends. “Smells delicious too.”

“Thank you, Ned. Truthfully, I just fried up some of the leftover Thai in the fridge.”

“So it is takeaway!” Peter exclaims, getting another light smack on the arm from May.

“Hey, I did cook the rice at least,” she defends while Peter rubs the area she hit. “I'm sorry, MJ. I was trying to make something different, but it kinda went up in smoke.”

“It's fine, May. Just so long as there isn't any meat in mine.”

“I made sure there wasn't meat in any, just to be safe.”

“Thanks.”

“So, how are your exams going, MJ?” May asks as they start to dig into their dinner.

“They should be fine. Same with the assessments. Just one more tomorrow,” she answers with a swallow before looking at Ned. “I take it Betty asked you to read over her work?”

The rest of the meal passes by with few events, just some causal talk, May asking questions of how MJ's holding up, and a few choice barbs flung by the snarky warrior over to the young Avenger. When they are all finished, Peter insists on collecting up the bowls and cutlery and washing up, despite the protests of his Aunt, leaving him now washing up the dishes in the kitchen.

“I should be going,” Michelle states as she rises up from her chair, though stops as May reaches a hand over.

“You don't have to go. We've got chocolate ripple cake for dessert. And I think the boys are going to put a movie on.”

“No thanks, I should go get ready for tomorrow. Make sure I'm prepared and all.”

“Well, I'll give you a slice for the road.”

“You don't have to-”

“Oh, nonsense,” May waves her off before looking over her shoulder. “Peter!”

“On it!” Peter shouts, grabbing a tea towel and quickly drying his hands before diving into the fridge.

“It was good to see you again, sweetie,” she says, pulling her into another hug that MJ accepts much quicker than the first. Michelle breaks away with a smile before walking over to Ned, who has gotten his laptop out once more.

“Bye, Ned,” she says, holding out a hand for a fist bump.

“See ya, MJ,” Ned says as he returns it. “Keep in touch over break?”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry, I've just been busy with school.”

“Yeah, we all have.”

MJ moves back around the table just as Peter bumbles out of the kitchen, sliding across the floor in his socks and bumping into a set of drawers. She manages to choke her laugh into her hoodie while he's busy fixing it and schools herself back to the blank canvas by the time he turns back around. With a slight tinge of faint crimson across his cheeks, he holds out her sizeable share of ripple cake tightly wrapped in glad-wrap. Silently, she takes it from his hands and pockets it in her hoodie along with her hands.

“Bye, dork,” she says before she walks to the door.

Peter waves awkwardly to her back and manages to stutter out, “Y-Yeah, see ya,” as she opens it, before glancing at May.

“Ask her!” his aunt mouths.

His mouth opens up again to fire back some sort of excuse, but for the second time that night the working words have gone on strike. Union has managed unity amongst every sound and syllable, turning them all in opposition of him again. No matter what his brain suggests as a compromise, there's no pleasing them. Not even the promise of using simple basic English properly. And yet, what whips everything back into shape is the sudden slam of the door behind Michelle making him jump and shifting everything into high gear. Diving for his backpack, he scurries inside for the envelope Mr. Stark gave him which had, by some means, managed to fall underneath his work and textbooks.

'This is a bad idea! This is a bad idea!' his brain runs on a loop as he finally pulls it free. Rushing to the door and wrenching it open, Peter darts through and spots her just before she makes it to the elevator.

“Michelle! Wait!”

MJ sighs and stops just short of the elevator doors, turning around as he dashes up to her

'This is a bad idea! This is a bad idea! This is a bad idea! This is -'

“What is it, Parker?”

“U-Um ...” Peter stammers out before clearing his throat, hoping that his words will stay working just long enough to finish this. “W-Well, today – earlier – obviously earlier, I-I got something Stark – from Mr. Stark. Not just any something; a big something. Like, monumental-”

“Get to the point, Parker,” Michelle interrupted, pulling her hands out of her pockets and crossing her arms across her chest. “You're not making any sense.”

“U-Uh, r-right … So, um, you know about Mr. Stark's wedding? To Ms. Potts?”

“No, I haven't heard about the wedding every media platform's been spending too long covering instead of actual important social issues.”

“O-Oh, right …”

'This is a bad idea! This is a bad idea!'

“What about it?”

“U-Um …” her starts again, before deflating with a sigh. “Don't worry. It's nothing. S-Sorry.”

Peter turns around and goes to walk back, until he feels her hand on his shoulder.

“Clearly not if you came running after me. What is it?”

“W-Well … I got invited,” he states, rubbing his free hand against the back of his neck.

“Huh …” she manages to utter, the blank canvas adding some life as her brows rise slightly higher over her widened eyes, “You must do some really important work for him to be invited to something so important.”

“I-I guess?”

“Is that a question or an answer?”

“… both?”

A heavy silence falls between the two of them before Michelle speaks up again.

“… So, is there anything else? Or were you just looking for compliments?”

“No! I-I … It's just … I've been allocated a guest for the trip and I … uh …” he stammers out before taking a deep breath, “… Iwaswonderingifyouwantedtocomewithme?”

“… Can you repeat that? Not all of us have super hearing, you know.”

“W-What?” he squeaks, his face draining of colour.

“Not all of us have super hearing,” she repeats. “Like your pal Spider-Man?”

“O-Oh, right. Um …” Peter clears his voice as the colour returns too quickly to his face, rushing past his normal tone and turning into a beat red blush. “I-I was just wondering i-if you wanted to come with me? T-To the wedding.”

Michelle's eyes widen again and her lips part slightly. She makes a move as if to speak, but it seems as if whatever she was going to say got caught along the way.

“Um … Look, Peter,” she starts, her head dropping slightly and tilting to the side, “I dunno-”

“You don't have to!” he exclaims, jolting her back to looking at him. Quietening himself back down, he continues with, “I-I was just asking … I knew May and Ned couldn't come-”

“Oh, so I'm third choice?”

“No! I-I mean, I see why it looks that way, but May is family and Ned's always been interested in this stuff, so i-it just seemed more likely that they would come. N-Not that I asked, because I already knew they couldn't come.”

Peter had kept his head trailed on the floor as he tentatively stammered through his explanation, meaning that he had completely missed the small smile that had managed to creak through Michelle's filter and painted itself across her canvas while he bumbled through his excuse. A small smile that had already been painted back over, along with the rest of her expression, ready to start again once more.

“Why not ask that girl that you're so worried about?”

'That's what I'm doing!' his insides exclaim, building up and waiting to be released. Instead, what came out was, “We aren't that close, me and her.”

MJ slowly nods before she admits, “Look, I don't know-”

“You don't have to!” he repeats again. “I mean, I don't want you to feel pressured into it. Just that, you know, if you didn't have any plans for spring break, and you wanted a holiday-”

“Oh no, my usual routine of wrapping myself in blankets and reading every book in sight with no end of tea is ruined now,” she complains dryly.

“O-Oh, right. Well, enjoy your plans, I guess-”

“I was joking, loser,” she smirks with a shake of her head. “I've got nothing on.” The smirk falls from her head as she continues, “It's just, last time we planned something for us, it didn't go well.

Peter slowly nods, remembering the disaster with Mysterio and his goons that Michelle could never understand. He takes in a deep breath before asking, “… So that's a no?”

Michelle sighs and leans up against the wall, staring off at a point on the ground.

“… I don't think I'd get along well with Stark when I'm there, regardless of if he's paying for the trip or not,” she answers.

“Ms. Potts will also be there,” Peter countered, remembering Michelle's admiration for her. “Also the Avengers.”

“Seriously?!” she exclaims, raising her head in time to catch Peter nodding. “How'd you get on that invite list?”

“I dunno.”

'Tell her! Tell her!'

“I've, uh, done some things for them. Tech upgrades and modifications.”

'And, also, I'm Spider-Man!' his mind continues on to mock him. 'Sorry for not telling you sooner. Friends again?'

“Th-That's it,” he finishes with a swallow, waiting in silence as MJ's squinted eyes stare at him. Every time she's looked at him that way, he always felt like she was doing more than observing; she was looking straight into his soul to find some answer. If there was any way that she knew he was Spider-Man, it was through that look.

“I don't know, Peter-”

“I could also owe you a favour?” Peter interjects again. “Something- Anything that you want.”

“Anything?” she questions with a raised eyebrow.

“Y-You know, within reason,” he clarifies. “I'll even get you a dress for it.”

“You don't think I've got a suitable dress?”

“N-No! Th-That's not-”

“What if I want to wear a suit instead?” she inquires, the ghost of a smile returning to her lips as she watches him crumble.

“Then I'll get you a suit. Whatever you want.”

MJ just manages to clamp down on the laugh just after it starts, with a small smile that still manages to pluck a melody along his heartstrings.

“I'm just messing with you, Pete,” she states, still keeping the smile on her face. A smile that he can't remember being directed at him since their trip to Europe. “You make it way too easy.”

“R-Right,” he says, slowly laughing.

“Where is it?”

“Plane ticket says Auckland, New Zealand,” he replies, pulling out one of the invitations and handing it to her.

“And you're leaving …?” she asks, reading over the page.

“Saturday. Morning. Day after tomorrow.”

“Thanks for the large warning,” she mutters quietly.

“Sorry, I only found out today,” he responds, causing her to look up and eye him again with her soul piercing gaze. Suddenly, Peter wasn't too sure if he should have said anything, considering her quip before about super hearing. Or if it was just because she didn't mean to say it aloud.

“Thanks for the warning, Stark,” she mutters again before handing the invite back. “I'll think about it, okay?”

“Y-Yeah, that's fine,” he replies, taking the invitation and sliding it back into the envelope. “Just, you know, let me know tomorrow. Or May, and she can tell me.”

“I'll be sure to message late.”

“Uh, maybe at a more reasonable time? You know, for the clothes and all? In case you do decide to come?”

“What, you haven't been sizing me up now?” she asks, giving Peter a sly look that sends the crimson fire burning across his face once more, spreading quickly down his neck.

“N-No! No!”

“You sure?” she says, pushing away from the wall and moving towards him. “A lot of guys would be admiring a body like mine like a piece of art.”

“G-Good for them?” he gulps as he backs up.

MJ backs him against a wall and leans in, his eyes fluttering down to her lips just inches away from his own.

'Just lean in. Kiss her,' a tiny voice whispered in the back of his head. 'You know you want to see if she still tastes the same.'

There was a time, though brief, where he knew exactly what she tasted like. It was heaven, or as close to it as he was ever going to get. So vibrant and shocking, sweeter than the sweetest honey, an unforgettable taste that would linger on his lips long after the smallest peck. And they were few, now just a memory of sweet torture. The whole concoctions of senses and visions builds at the tension eating away at his will while he shrinks down in a crimson mess. That is, until the smile that spreads its way across her morphs into full blown laughter, pure and joyful, the beautiful sound he hasn't truly heard in years that ever since has both blessed and haunted his dreams at the same time.

“You really make it too easy, dork,” she laughs and backs away, allowing him to release the breath of hot air trapped in his throat that he hadn't realised he was holding back.

“W-When's your exam?” he manages to spit out, pushing himself uneasily off the wall.

“It goes from 8 to 11,” she answers, getting just a nod in response as she walks over to the elevator doors and presses the down button. “Apparently we get too much sleep as it is.”

“Well, mine starts at 1, s-so just m-message any time before then, I guess. Maybe 12:30 at the latest?”

“Fine.”

The elevator doors whine as they slowly slide open, sticky metal rubbing against one another. Michelle gives them a tentative glance before stepping in and hitting the ground button.

“W-Well, see you,” Peter says, giving her another awkward wave that she finally sees.

MJ just stares at him through squinted eyes as the doors start to close, before smirking as she raises her middle finger just at the last moment. Peter lets out a loud sigh and puts his head in his hands before he makes his way back to May's apartment. When he gets inside, he closes the door before falling back against it and sliding down to the ground. Ned glances up from his laptop before taking a double-take at his crumpled friend, May quickly joining him.

“What did she do to you?” Ned asks, slowly hovering away from his chair.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Peter admits, taking several deep breaths as he spreads out his enhanced hearing, listening for any trouble on her end.

All he can hear is her softly humming to herself as she rides down, while Mrs. Thompson's TV has been switched off and the shouting from downstairs seems to have gotten louder. Looks like they'll need a visit from Queen's red-and-blue domestic expert, though they'll have to settle for Spider-Man instead. At least the suit is in the backpack.

“You asked her?” May inquires. “Properly?” Peter just nods. “… And?”

“I'll find out tomorrow.”

Michelle stretches her arms up above her head as she leaves the exam hall with the swarm of students. She had finished early, as she expected, but not as early as she thought as stupid Parker's stupid proposal kept worming its way into her head as she was trying to think. Still, she finished early, but of course she wasn't allowed to leave until time was up anyway. Not without failing, as the examiners said, which wasn't something she wished to push today. At least she had a chance to think about it, more than she had already antagonised over the decision much more than she felt she should have last night when she was meant to study. Beside her, her friend and roommate, Cindy Moon, sighs happily, her utensils cluttered in her arms.

“Finally it's over!” Cindy Moon sighs happily beside her, her overly large collection of writing utensils and highlighters cradled in her arms, “I'm so happy I could just collapse here and now!”

“I'll call the ambulance,” Michelle drawls, pulling out her phone from her jean pocket to check for messages. Nothing. “Tell them to expect the usual.”

Cindy giggles and bumps into her, “It's not that normal.”

“It's way too common for it to be considered normal,” Michelle retorts, sliding her phone back into its designated pocket as another friend and their other roommate, Betty Brant, jogs up on her other side.

“Time to celebrate, girls!” the blonde cheers. “Clubs and drinks tonight!”

“Don't you need to pack for Ned's holiday?” Cindy questions.

“No, I'm already packed. Besides, we're leaving Sunday. There's plenty of time.”

“Yeah, in which you'll throw out half your clothes an hour before you need to leave because it just doesn't feel right, and then antagonise over what else to bring,” MJ points out.

“That never happens,” Betty dismisses. “You worry too much.”

MJ and Cindy share a glance, remembering last year's trip where she was crying with her clothes strewn on the floor around her empty suitcase with 10 minutes before they left. Then again, MJ knew that Cindy stressed about packing for an entire week beforehand and keep meticulously checking even the smallest detail to make sure it was right, so she had no room to talk either.

“Drinks do sound good, though,” Cindy admits with a thoughtful nod. “Michelle?”

“Maybe,” she shrugs.

“So you're not going with Peter?” inquires Betty, drawing a sigh from Michelle.

“I haven't decided.”

“Wait, what's this?” Cindy asks in confusion, glancing between the two.

“Peter asked MJ to go to Stark's wedding with him.”

“Seriously?!” Cindy squeals, her hands jerking up to cover her mouth only to stop as she realises she's still holding her equipment.

“Not so loud …” Michelle mumbles with a wince.

“How have you not decided yet?!”

“Because I'm not that big on Stark,” Michelle starts to list off on her fingers, “Because I'm not that big on a bunch of big muscly superheroes who'll argue over who's the most macho. Because I don't want to be around a bunch of corporate yes men who are way too old and creepy to contribute to society. And because it's Peter.”

“Is the last point for the positive or negative?” Cindy stage whispers to Betty, leaning in behind MJ's back.

“Probably positive,” Betty muses. “Outweighs those three negatives.”

“Seriously?” MJ says, folding her arms over her chest with an unimpressed eyebrow raised.

“Hey, regardless of what you say, I know you still haven't gotten over Peter,” Betty says as she keeps walking, the other two quickly catching up and keeping pace. “And the way you treat him doesn't exactly help your case.”

“How I treat him?”

“Well, it's not exactly normal for girls who claim someone's broken their heart to playfully tease them,” Cindy joins in, a hand somehow free from the clutter in her arms tapping her chin thoughtfully.

“I don't tease playfully. Wait, what do you mean, 'you know'?”

“Drunk Michelle tells me things that Sober Michelle is too afraid to say,” Betty answers candidly with a sing-song pitch.

'I'm going to have to sit down and talk with Drunk Michelle,' Michelle internally broods. 'If she keeps lying like this, I'll end up in a mess I'm not going to get out of.'

“And it's because of this that you keep turning down dates and don't do anything outside of one night stands,” Betty continues. “You should give one of those boys a chance.”

'Forget the talk. Drunk Michelle's meeting the firing squad tonight. With full prejudice.'

“Cindy-rella!” calls out a male voice from across the courtyard.

“Zekie!” Cindy perks up and runs over to the source of the pet name, running into the arms of a tall black man with short stubby dreadlocks, her utensils scattering on the cobble floor beneath them. Michelle notes him as her boyfriend, Ezekiel, as their bright grins morph together when their lips crash into each other's.

“How'd it go?”

“I dunno,” Cindy replies. “I'm worried I messed it all up.”

“Nah, you're amazing! There's no way you didn't get top marks.”

“No way, top marks will go to this girl,” a smooth male voice says coming from behind Betty and Michelle.

“Speaking of boys …” Betty says, turning around.

'Speaking of creepy …' MJ sours internally, also pivoting to the source of the sound with a scowl.

Striding over towards the group, dirty blonde hair slicked back, tight button-up shirt that hugs his muscular physique with the top buttons left undone, and tight jeans clinging to his legs, is the heir to Oscorp Industries, Harry Osborn; charmer, playboy, womaniser, millionaire in his own right, flashing a smile that would make any girl swoon.

Any girl not named Michelle Jones.

“What do you say, MJ? Top of the class yet again?”

“It's Michelle, Osborn.”

“Whoa, slow down,” Harry chuckles, “I haven't even gotten the ring yet.”

“Fuck off,” she growls, turning her back to him.

“Still as feisty as ever, huh? Calm down, MJ. I was just joking,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder, which is quickly smacked away as she spins back round.

“I told you. It's Michelle,” she snaps, glaring at him and jabs a finger in the air in front of him. “Okay?”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

Michelle huffs and folds her arms over her chest, not failing to notice how his bright blue eyes travel down her body, taking in every little piece that they can see. A cold chill darts across her skin like a sickness as his gaze continues to linger while it travels back up her body, no doubt undressing her in a way that would be as uncomfortable as possible if she ever had the displeasure to live it out.

“Some friends of mine were talking about heading around to my mansion and getting a head start on the drinking before the clubs all open up,” he finally speaks after what feels like an eerie eternity for Michelle, his eyes peering into her own. “Interested?”

“Betty and I were thinking of going out later anyway,” Cindy jumps in, holding hands with her boyfriend as they walk over, their free hands holding her once again collected equipment.

“Excellent,” Harry says, barely letting his eyes leave Michelle. “You're welcome to join us.”

“We've still got some things to take care of too, though,” Betty points out.

“Alright, then we can swing round and pick you up on the way to the clubs.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“What about you, princess? We can grab a drink, get to know each other more personally,” Harry says, turning back to Michelle. “I can even invite you to join the getaway to California. Just think; hot sun, busy beaches, lots of parties. You can put all those fake girls to shame with that beautiful body of yours.”

“Nope. Not a chance, Osborn,” MJ replies, sidestepping the arm he went to throw around her shoulders and sliding her phone out of her pocket. She quickly unlocks it and opens up her messages to Peter. “Gotta pack. I've got plans. Far away from you.”

I'm in Dress and favour included

'Thanks for making that choice so much easier. Only thing you've ever been good for, Osborn,' she thinks as she gets a quick buzz back.

rly?!?!?!?!?!

Yep Shocker Details?

“Really?” Osborn questions in surprise, his brow rising up. “What kind of plans?”

I'll send them 2 U l8r After exam

“One's that don't involve you.”

Pick text speech or normal and stick with it

… Please tell me you picked normal

“That sounds lonely,” Harry croons in his sultry tone.

“It sounds peaceful,” MJ jabs back.

I picked normal

I don't believe you

Y not?

You took to long to write that Also, your last message

“So, where are you going?” Harry continues to inquire, leaning in to try and peer at her phone. Without looking up, Michelle tilts it away from his eyes, keeping it close to her body.

“Somewhere not Osborn related.”

Fair For your dress, go to 154 on 32nd I'll let them know u r coming

MJ's brow furrows as she reads the address. From what she remembers, that's meant to be a top end shop filled with custom makes and designer makes that only people with some decent cash can afford.

“That'll be hard to do,” Harry presses on. “Osborn is a household name, after all.”

“Right. Up on the same level as Stark himself,” MJ sarcastically retorts with a roll of her eyes.

Isn't that that really expensive new place?

Yep

“It is,” he stresses. “And soon will rise above. There's lots of money in Oscorp. Which means plenty of riches and fame for me. And anyone that's personally involved.”

“Aw, you say that to all the girls,” Michelle says, putting on a fake sweet voice that sounds deliberately off.

Stark's paying for this, isn't he?

He asked me to go there for sizing yesterday

So you're not getting me a dress?

“Just the special one.”

“Just one? You're getting old, Osborn.”

Hey It counts in my book

Fine But only because you didn't have to offer

“I think you'll find I'm young enough in all the right places,” he leans in to whisper with a smirk, “if you'd care to take a look sometime.”

“No, I'm not up for playing Doctor.”

“Right now?”

“Ever!” she growls, taking a step back.

“Hey, Cindy? Maybe we should get going?” Betty interjects nervously, stepping in between Harry's cool and calm persona and Michelle's fiery spirit fit to burst. “Let Michelle finish her packing.”

“Yeah, okay,” she nods, untangling her fingers from Ezekiel's and quickly pecking his lips. “I'll see you later.”

“See you soon,” he replies, handing her back the utensils he was carrying.

“And I'll see you later, princess,” Harry grins at Michelle. “Still time to change your mind.”

“Don't count on it,” she huffs as she storms away.

“MJ, wait up!” Betty calls after her as she and Cindy take off after their friend.

Forget sending me the details Mind if I stay tonight?

I'm staying at May's tonight She should be fine with it I'll check Why the sudden change?

Just thought it'll save travelling between two houses

Oh Right

Don't get excited, Parker

“Sorry, I should have defused that a lot sooner,” Betty apologises as they finally catch up to Michelle's long legged stride.

“That would have helped,” Michelle grates as she receives another couple of buzzes, this time from May.

Honey, you're more than welcome to stay. Whenever you need to.

Michelle has to smother the smile bubbling up with the special kind of grateful feeling that only May Parker's warmth can give before turning to her friends and roommates.

“I'm not staying tonight.”

“Where are you going?” Cindy asks.

“I'll stay at May's. Peter's there and it'll save travelling all over in the early morning,” MJ explains. “Plus I'm not wanting to see that slime ball again.”

“We'll make sure they don't come to get us before you're gone,” Betty assures her.

“Thanks.”

A/N: Please feel free to let me know what you think. Hopefully the next chapter shouldn’t be too far away. At least not as far as this one was. Until next time, adios!

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spideyxchelle · 6 years

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hi friends! i am back and ready to roll. here is some hollywood au nsfw.

“So,” the reporter taps her pen against the fullness of her manufactured bottom lip, “Righteous Minds is being called one of the sexiest movies of the year.” Peter works to keep his expression neutral as she plows forward with the question he can see coming a mile away, “Where did you draw inspiration for your latest flick?”

“Well, uh, my writing partner, Ned Leeds, penned an excellent script. I was interested in the story he was telling, not necessarily the sexiness of it.”

“But it is sexy,” she jumps in.

His eyebrow twitches. “Yes,” he concedes, “Its a love story. And I didn’t want to disservice the reality of love, which has a physical side. Always.”

The reporter chews on his words in delight. Without any subtlety, she asks boldly, “What does your wife think of this movie?”

Peter recites the same line he has fed everyone since he started his press tour, “She supports all of my work. I’m very lucky.”

He can tell she is unsatisfied with his answers, so she breezily switches tactics, “And the content doesn’t bother her?”

The director forces an Oscar-worthy smile on his tense features, “We won’t be showing it to our three year old son, that’s for sure.”

He dislikes the energy of this woman, the entitled air she has about his private life, and he desperately wants the interview to end, but the press junket has only begun.

He slams the hotel door closed when he enters the solace of his personal suite at the end of the day. Michelle barely looks up from the script she is studying and yet she still manages to read his body language, “What’s wrong?

Peter crawls into bed beside his wife and grumbles loudly into the pressed linens, “I knew I shouldn’t have made the film so explicit.”

Michelle begins to casually scratch the back of his head, a calming gesture she adopted early in their relationship, which lightens his stormy mood. She makes him feel in touch with his body immediately. Michelle Jones-Parker is his balm from the shocking celebrity of his life. Without her, this life would be infinitely harder. “It was in Ned’s script,” she says.

“I know,” he shifts his body so his nose is squished against her shoulder. Her warmth radiates bone deep. “I just wish people would stop trying to get details about our sex life under the blanket of the movie. Ned wrote the bulk of it. I just contributed to the final draft.”

His wife shuts her script and puts it away on the bedside table. Her body twists so she can hold him tightly and soothe him all at once. “They know we have sex, Peter. We gave them proof three years ago.”

The oblique mention of his son softens Peter considerably. “Is Ben awake?”

She shakes her head, “He went down about an hour ago.” Michelle presses a patient kiss against his forehead. “Talk to me, what set this off?”

“One of the reporter’s asked if I drew from real life during that closet sex scene.”

His wife’s smile turns feral and he feels his blood heat up at once. He can see the memory— her hot, wanting hands that ripped his slacks open just enough to get at him with her back pressed against a thin closet door— forming in the pools of her eyes. He remembers the same memory, too; the way she had sobbed in his ear when he swiped her skirt up and pushed her underwear aside that night. He recalls the way she had clawed at his suit jacket and ordered him to go harder and faster to get them both there as quickly as possible. After all, she had reasoned, people were bound to notice that they were missing at the Golden Globes.

And when he had shot his new film with a deliriously sexy closet sex scene, he had known his wife would see the similarities to their own closet escapade. But the public was not entitled to those memories. Not that snooty reporter, or the kids that bomb-rushed him at every coffee house in America. What happened between he and his wife was precious and private and wholly theirs.

In their quiet hotel room, she looks at him like she could devour him whole. Michelle places her two flat palms on his shoulders and guides him on his back. Her thin leg falls over his waist and she is suddenly straddling him while her curly hair falls in wild waves around her face. He is forced to look up at her and drink in her deity-like beauty. “Michelle,” he chokes on the English language.

“Ben’s asleep.” Michelle says. “You’re here.” She observes. “And you’ve spent all day talking about your sexy movie.” He gulps as his wife drags her body across his crotch, as if to search for an erection she is now causing. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about this, hoped for it.”

Peter shakes his head, “No, I haven’t.” But his hands betray him as they tighten around the dips at her waist. He holds her firmly as if he is afraid she might float away and never return.

“Mm,” Michelle coos, rolling her hips down against his stiffening hardness, “I don’t believe you.” Peter groans and she preens, “I don’t believe you, Mr. Director. You wanna know why?”

His wife drops her mouth open slightly, the picture of delight, and he roughs out, “Why?”

“Because your dick is already hard.” She grinds her hips against his erection to serve her point.

It has been over a decade since he first touched his wife during the whirlwind of his first film, but every time is still as wondrous and dizzying as the first time. He is not sure how he became the lucky bastard that got to worship Michelle Jones-Parker’s bed, but he is eternally grateful. She makes his world technicolor. He flew over the rainbow and there she was waiting to welcome him to a high-definition world.

“I love you,” he praises.

Something behind her eyes shines with affection, “I love you, too.” And then, the temptress is back and rubbing at his erection over his jeans with her weaponized body. “Now, remind me again, Peter,” she says, sounding suspiciously the part of a reporter, “your main character in this new film loves to really give it to his girlfriend....why?”

Something primal and possessive prowls just beneath the surface of Peter’s civilized nature. He lowers the gates of his self control and flips his wife on her back, effectively pinning her to the pressed sheets of the hotel linens. She blinks up at him and then hooks her leg around his backside and presses. He does not growl, though the temptation strikes him. “She’s chatty,” he offers.

“He fucks her wild because she’s chatty?” she challenges him.

“No,” Peter hisses as he dips his head to whisper in Michelle’s ear. “He fucks her wild so the only talking she’ll be able to do is shouting his name.”

Her little body shivers under his weight, “Oh? She’s going to shout his name?”

“Yes,” he nips her earlobe. “And beg. And cry out for more.”

Michelle arches her back off the bed in an attempt to be closer to him. Her eyes flutter shut, “How do you know she’s going to do that?”

“Easy,” he replies. “It’s in the script.” His mouth crashes against her parted, demanding lips. Their kiss is not new or exploratory. It is filthy and knowledgeable. It is the servant of years and years of practice. It knows how to make his wife tremble and make his own body boil.

He does not need an hour of fumbling foreplay at their age. And neither does she. He knows how to get her wet and desperate for him. So, he rips open her blouse with his demanding hands and does not stop to apologize for the shredded fabric. She is a movie star. She can buy another fucking shirt.

Her breasts are bare and her nipples have pebbled over so he licks them into his mouth. Michelle grips the back of his shirt with one hand and cradles his head to her chest with the other. He sucks and bites at her flesh. When he bites her sensitive skin, she whimpers and urges him to bite her again. So, he does.

He remembers when she was twenty-six and shooting a film in Atlanta, a producer had called him about the bite marks. The shy man had tripped his way through a gentle request not to mark up the talent a day before she shot a nude scene.

She is not filming anything now.

Peter finds a rhythm to his attentions on her chest and it could be four minutes, an hour, or several weeks later when his wife yanks his head up and slams their mouths together. Her needy hands fly down to his zipper and begin to yank him loose.

He sits up enough to pull his own shirt over his head, but he struggles with her pajama pants. Michelle’s breathing is erratic and labored when she kicks him aside and shimmies out of them herself. He makes himself busy with his own jeans and underthings.

When they fall back together, he pins her wrists to the bed. There is a beat, a profound moment, before their coupling, when he looks down at her with her hair spilled across the white sheets and his heart thunders. Her eyes are dark but they are also deeply loving. He gazes down at his wife and inches forward to slant his mouth over hers in a chaste kiss.

Then, he sheathes himself inside of her. The warmth and tightness is all consuming. She pulses around his dick and the pair of them pause to relish the moment, the intensity, the serenity of their bodies. Michelle lifts her head to kiss him lightly and lovingly. It is almost the polar opposite of the nature of this act as he cages her to the bed.

When she drops her head back against her pillow, her eyes are lidded from the stretch of his thickness. “Fuck me, Peter,” she demands. Michelle does not ask. She takes. And takes. And takes. And her husband does his best to grant her wishes.

He lifts her backside off the bed to deepen the angle of his thrusts and begins to hammer away deep inside of her. Her sweaty, reactive body slaps against his skin. The rhythm is furious and punishing. He does not relent and she does not ask him to slow.

Instead, she cries, “Harder, Peter. Baby, harder.” Her requests trigger a base part of his brain that make him angle his body over hers and dig her wrists into the bed. She is at his mercy, she is weighing beneath his thrusting figure and her mouth is open as if every part of her was capable of taking him all at once.

“You like that?” he grunts. She nods uselessly. “Tell me you like that,” he repeats.

“I do,” she mumbles with her eyes closed tightly, as if she could hold the moment between her fingertips if she pretended it was a dream. A wonderful dream.

“Tell me why,” he groans, grinding his member deeper into her.

She sobs his name and arches upwards to search for more of him. There is nothing else to be found. He is buried inside her to the hilt. “Because,” she wanders off the road of coherence.

“Because why?”

He has to ask again before she finds her voice, “Because you’re mine. And I’m yours.”

And that is the whole of it. The sticky sweet ownership of the other’s heart. He knows if someone were to cut his chest open and peak at his heart there would be a singed brand of her name there. It is impossible to explain the relief and love of belonging to another. Peter never tries. Instead, he attempts to show her through actions. He makes her favorite tea in the morning, puts their son down to bed every other night, buys her little gifts whenever he is thinking of her as proof of his devotion. And when all else fails to express the magnitude of his love, he makes passionate love to her.

Or, he fucks her.

Her wrists wiggle under his palms. He feels her body beginning to shiver and shake under his ministrations. “Peter,” she uselessly pleads, “Peter, please.”

All at once, he lifts his body off of her and the pressure of his dick is gone. She is left empty and wanting and he watches her eyes snap open in fury, “What the he—“ But she falls hopelessly silent when he grabs her ankles and loops them up on each of his shoulders. He presses back down on her body and her knees fit snugly against her chest.

Peter reaches down between their bodies and guides himself back inside of his wife. Her head flies backward on the bed and it leaves her long neck exposed. He sucks hot kisses on her neck, greedy and wet.

His pace is growingly frantic as the peak of pleasure licks up his spine. “Peter,” she cries out. He grabs her wrists and pins them back to the bed. He knows the trust she grants him in these moments. It is like a faint whisper— I know you would never hurt me. And he never does.

His hips snap with vigor and she moans with each attack on her senses. Her hands make motions to claw at him, but she cannot reach him pinned to the bed.

There are a few high-pitched pants and begging requests. He lets those words act as kindling to his raging fire. They are dangerous words. “Harder, Peter,” she cries. “Fuck me, baby. Fuck me.”

And when she starts to lose language for some baser, like groans and whimpers, Peter’s own rhythm begins to falter. He bites her neck and she sobs from pleasure. Against that skin, he husks, “Cum for me, Em. Let me feel it.”

She nods, beyond the point of comprehension, and nods more. She keeps nodding and nodding and whining until her body snaps. Her body tightens and pulses around him and her fingers and toes curl. Michelle’s mouth opens in a soundless cry and pleasure slackens her features. She shakes. She trembles and then she relaxes into the sheet.

It nearly topples him over, too.

But he holds onto his restraint just barely and when she recovers from her orgasm, when her sparkly eyes lazily open to gaze up at him, he begins again.

She is sensitive now. He knows. And she lifts her head to fit their foreheads together. Their breathing is heavy. “Peter,” she strains.

He tightens his hold on her wrists, “Em, I’m almost there. Let me take you, again. Please.”

His wife does not have the energy to kiss him, so she brushes her mouth against his words. And nods.

There is nothing leashed about how he fucks her now. He is not the man she married at the end of the alter with tears welling in his eyes. He is not the man that stared at her dallies during their first and only film together all those years ago. He is the man she welcomed into her home and fucked on the couch like she owned him. He is the man she pinned down to her bed in her old, lofty Hollywood Hills home and rode for hours, stealing orgasms as they came and went. He is the man that he can only ever be with her permission.

And this man is desperate one.

She grunts. And groans. And, finally, with one perfectly found thrust, he topples over into a blinding orgasm. In his delirium, he hears her cry his name and feels her clench around him once more. He feels the shocking pleasure of a joint rush. He hears her little moans as her body holds his member for ransom and milks what she can from him.

He feels his own hips shudder into her a few more times, holding onto sensation. He feels how rough those last are.

And then, there is peace.

Deep and meaningful silence as their breathing slows.

Peter releases his wife’s wrists and they immediately fly to his hair to card through his floppy locks. He hides his face in her neck and she presses a smile against his brow.

“Michelle,” he manages after several moments of relishing in her body as he softens inside of her.

“Mm, yes?” she practically glows.

“I was thinking about this all day,” he admits.

She snorts, “Yeah, loser, I know.”

He smiles. The audience can think what they want about his new film. He knows what actually lies between them. And it is perfect. They are perfect.

#ficlet #hollywood au #trash can

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